


Winter Dreams

by likebunnies



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebunnies/pseuds/likebunnies
Summary: Ichabod Crane's mother arrives in the form of a ghost on Christmas Eve and offers him the chance to see other scenarios where he and Abbie might have met.





	1. Like Falling Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> I started this first part for Christmas of 2016 but never got more written. Now I'll be adding to this! And some are AUs which isn't always necessarily my thing but I thought it would be fun to try!

“I hate Christmas,” Ichabod Crane muttered as he opened the door to his dingy, gray DC apartment. His neighbor was playing some horrible Christmas tune over and over. Something about a dead grandmother and a reindeer. He thought it was rather obvious that the grandfather had killed the grandmother and was pinning the murder on a mythical flying reindeer but the child next door to him howled with delight over the song and demanded it be played ad infinitum. 

Crane had never been all that fond of these modern Christmas extravagances but Abbie had been so he went along with it. Now with her gone, he hated it. All of it. Lights. Bells. Trees. Annoying music. People pretending to be happy just because the calendar demanded it. 

He could pretend most days that his heart wasn't completely shattered just so he could barely get by but he wasn't going to pretend to be happy for this. It would be just any other day for him, where he went to work and tried hard to forget the things he had done. And the things he hadn't done. 

There were so many things he hadn't done and they weighed on his mind every second of every day. 

Crane stepped into the place he called home now (though he would never really have a home again) and placed his keys in the usual spot so he wouldn't lose them like always. He went to the kitchen and got a beer out of the refrigerator, twisted the cap off, and tossed it at the garbage bin, missing it entirely. He didn't even bother to pick it up off of the floor but moved to his tiny living room so he could watch some TV in the dark and fall asleep on his second hand couch like he did every night now. 

He had just reached for the remote control when he sensed he was not alone. Whatever was with him in that room didn't create any sort of a feeling of dread. Besides, he really didn't care much about living at this point anyway. Getting murdered during a break-in would be fine with him if it meant he didn't have to hear that dreadful song through his apartment walls one more time. Or live without Abbie one more day. 

“Take whatever you came for and get out so I can finish my beer and watch the news in peace,” Ichabod said. If whomever was there was going to kill him, certainly they would have done so by now. “Besides, I have nothing of value left anyway.”

“I know. My poor, sad Ichabod. You've lost everything and you have done it a few times now. You keep getting another chance and still, you can't seem to find the path you truly belong on,” a voice said. It wasn't ominous. Rather, it had a musical quality about it. It was a voice he remembered from long, long ago. 

“Mother?” he said, suddenly unsure of anything. Yes, the supernatural was all around him. He himself was only here due to reasons no one could ever quite believe. But this? After all this time... this? Elizabeth Crane was in his living room?

“Yes, my dear boy. I don't have long to remain in the realm of the living but I had to see you,” she said. He felt the presence in the room draw closer to him and then a shimmering haze materialized. He could make out her form, although it was a bit hard to do, and reached for her. Something cold wrapped around his fingers, holding them tight. “You're so warm and alive. I've missed you so.”

Crane pulled the figure towards him and she began to take a more solid shape until finally there were actual fingers touching his. They still weren't warm but they were real. And they were definitely the long, thin fingers of his mother. 

“Oh, mother,” he said, rising up and pulling her into his arms. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to cry and she just held him, her hands gently patting his back as they softly swayed together. He could barely make out the scent of her but it was there. Her hair was down around her shoulders, not tied up like she had always worn it in life. The honey-blond strands curled down her back and he remembered being a little boy and watching her tie it up. He only saw her do it once but it was such a sweet memory. He was soon swept away out of her room and to his daily lessons. A less than sweet memory. 

“Ichabod, I'm here to offer you some choices and help guide you. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be with you longer when you were young. I didn't want to leave you but I had to go. I'm only back now because I didn't use my one chance to return and visit my one true love after I died. I didn't visit your father... for reasons. Many reasons and... anyway, I bargained and am using this chance now,” she said. Crane pulled away from his mother and looked at her. 

“People get a choice to do that? To visit their one true love?” His mother nodded yes. “Oh, Abbie...” 

Crane closed his eyes and thought about those few precious moments he had with the Lieutenant before she disappeared from his life entirely. About the things she said and how he still couldn't accept them. None of it could be what she meant. That her job was done. She had done everything she was supposed to. That all had to be lies. Abbie would never give up like that. Not for him. Not for anyone. Why had she said those things?

“To force you to move on,” his mother said even though he hadn't spoken any of those thoughts out loud. “That's why most everyone does what they do when they come back for that one last time. For most people, it's like a dream. They consider it only that and nothing more. But because of who you are and what you and the other Witness were to each other, it felt more real to you. It was real.”

He sat back down and she sat beside him, holding one of his hands. 

“What happens next? Some sort of Dickensian view of what might have been?” he asks. 

“Dickensian?”

“I'm sorry – Charles Dickens. He was a little after your time. After my time, too, actually. The first time, that is,” Crane said. 

“Oh, yes. Charlie. Always fun at the Christmas parties...” she said, trailing off in thought. Crane just stared at her, his mouth open. “Close your mouth, dear. And to answer your question, yes. In a way. You will get to see how some things might have been. You will get chances to do things you didn't have before. If you turned left instead of right. If you were the one to die that day instead of her.”

“There's always a catch,” Crane said. He had been involved with the supernatural too long now not to realize that there was often a price to be paid for 'gifts' such as these. “What is it that I have to give up or do in order for this to work?”

“You might not be the same person in all of the scenarios you live through... and you will be living through them. She might not know exactly who you are. Or you might decide that things are better the way they are than any of the ways they might have been. You will have to learn to live with the choices you already made,” Elizabeth said. 

“Then what? I just get to change everything? How far back will this go? I don't want to accidentally change the outcome of the American Revolution,” Crane said, raising an eyebrow. Make the wrong choice, kill a few founding fathers, and things might be different. Then again, things might be better. 

You will only be able to change things with the other Witness and during the time you shared together. Nothing else. Your destinies and your souls are truly entwined. That's how this is possible,” she said. 

“And what will it feel like?” Crane asked. He had experienced many things, including his own 'death' but he had no idea how this could possibly work. 

“Like falling asleep, my dear boy,” she said. “If you possibly can with that song repeating over and over.”

Crane suddenly felt more exhausted than he had ever felt in his life. More than during endless nights and days of battle. More than during any of the adventures he had been on with Abbie. This was different. 

“Like a dream,” he muttered. His mother pulled him to her, and his head was resting on her lap. She was stroking his hair and it felt good. It felt so comforting. 

“Just like a dream.” 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

To be continued...


	2. Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie Mills is closing up her bakery on Christmas Eve when a stranger comes in desperately looking for something. What will the two of them find together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these years, I will get a Christmas story done by Christmas. Oh, who am I kidding? And this is like Hallmark Channel Christmas Movie silly fluff. But with a little smut added in. And AUs really aren’t something I’m very good at but I’m trying!

Abbie was ready for the holidays to be over. It had been exceptionally busy in her quaint bakeshop and there was an endless stream of people picking up their orders for Christmas Eve. Her sister, Jenny, was helping by getting all the internet orders shipped on time and even Jenny's boyfriend, Joe, pitched in early mornings before his shift at the ER.

Still, she was glad that they would be closing soon and tomorrow was Christmas so she could sleep in for the first time in a very long time. The last customer had shuffled out with their goodies and Jenny was about to turn the sign on the door over to “Closed” when a tall, bearded man came rushing in from the snow.

“There's not much left,” Jenny said as he rushed by her and to the counter, looking pleadingly at Abbie.

“I desperately need a Christmas pudding,” he said and Abbie's ears perked up at both his accent and his weird request.

“I... sorry... a what?” Abbie stammered, still staring at him as he shook the snowflakes out of his hair. It was longer than she normally liked on guys but thankfully not long enough to pull it into a man bun. She had seen enough of those with the college in the next town. This man's hair had the cutest curls near his neck and... he did have a lovely neck. And face. And eyes. What was it he wanted again?

“A Christmas pudding. I have tried and tried to get one right and they have all failed. I'm hosting the history department's 'holiday away from home' dinner tomorrow for all my colleagues who are, well, away from home, and I promised there would be a pudding,” the man said, his hands flying around expressively as he spoke.

“I don't have any puddings. I do have some pies left. Oh, here... these are also good,” Abbie said, offering him something from a bag.

“I can't serve my guests something from a bag,” he said as he reached in and popped one in his mouth. “Oh, these are good.”

“Listen... Doctor... what's your name?” Abbie asked.

“How did you know I'm a doctor?” he asked, licking the cinnamon sugar off of his fingertips.

“History department. Colleagues. Away from home so I'm guessing you're at the university as a teacher? It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to work that one out,”Abbie said as he grabbed another donut hole and shoved it in his mouth.

“Besides, she used to be a police officer. Was going to be a detective one day had she not been injured,” Jenny said as she continued to clean up the small store, wiping down the few tables they had so customers could enjoy their pastry in the morning. The front door was now locked, the keys dangling from the lock so they'd be able to let this last minute customer out when he was ready to go.

“Ah. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure that was a great loss to the local police force, And it's Crane. Doctor Crane. Or professor if you like. I'm actually here to teach about the American Revolution from the British perspective and to work on my book,” Crane said.

“Isn't the British perspective that we kicked your ass?” Jenny asked. Abbie rolled her eyes at her sister but Jenny always liked a good argument.

“Only because you had the French,” he said, pointing a finger in Jenny's direction.

“You had the Hessians. You had the best navy in the world at the time. You had an organized army with excellent leadership and still you lost,” Jenny continued on in a sing-song fashion.

“I see you've taken my class,” he said with a slight, wry smile.

“Jenny, could you go in back and make sure I didn't forget anyone's order? I can drop anything off on the way home. Now, Doctor Crane, would you like a pie or what?” Abbie interrupted, hoping to end this thing between the professor and her sister. Jenny went off to the back, whistling Yankee Doodle. “I apologize for my sister.”

“No, she does have a point, which is actually why I'm at the university here. I am researching how the Americans did overcome the odds and win. This region is filled with so much history and I'm enjoying all of it immensely. I just can't find a bakery that has a Christmas pudding!” he said.

Abbie bit her lip and thought for a minute. If he wasn't so cute, she would have sent him back out into the snow a long time ago but there he was in that pretty navy coat that made his blue eyes even more blue and she felt for him. Felt a lot of things for him, actually. It had to be the accent.

Jenny called out from the back that there was nothing there and she was going to go make a quick trip to the grocery store before the market closed early. Abbie mumbled that she would see her later for Christmas Eve dinner and listened as Jenny locked the back door. Both doors were now locked and she was all alone with Doctor Crane.

“What's your first name?” she asked. “I'm Abbie, by the way.”

“I guessed that one,” he said, arching an eyebrow up at her. She looked at him puzzled until she remembered she had her name on the front of the bakery. On her apron. On her shirt. On her name tag. She never in her life thought she'd own a bakery. She wasn't even that great at it at first but she learned and came to love the whole thing, accepting help wherever it came from.

“Yes... Abbie Mills. Formerly Lieutenant Abbie Mills. Now baker Mills. Who knows what's next. Maybe candlestick maker,” she said, laughing nervously. He had put his hands on the counter and was leaning in her direction.

“Oh, Lieutenant. I like the sound of that,” he said, the timbre of his voice dropping even lower. “And my name is Ichabod.”

She couldn't help herself. She let out something more than a nervous chuckle this time.

“Ichabod?”

“You can call me Crane if you'd prefer,” he said. “Ichabod was an old family name. I had some relative who came to America centuries ago with the same name. I should look up where he's buried whilst I'm here.”

They seemed to be getting further and further away from the topic of baked goods. Abbie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus. When she opened her eyes, he was still staring at her.

“Okay, Crane. How about we look up your pudding on the internet and see what we can do,” Abbie said. He looked incredibly relieved to have help. She, on the other hand, was wondering what the hell she was getting herself into.

*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^

“Well, I think we're pretty much screwed when it comes to a Christmas pudding,” Abbie said as she scrolled through recipe after recipe. “You needed to start two weeks ago at the very least for something authentic.”

“I see that now,” Crane said as he stared over her shoulder. They were both in her tiny office near the back of the store, staring at her monitor. She normally just handled orders and inventory in here but there was a handful of personal photos around. She couldn't help but notice him look at a few of them, especially the one of her and some of her former police colleagues. Many had died in that raid a couple of years ago. She was thankful she had lived. She missed Andy and Luke a lot but there was no changing the past.

“This one says you need to start it at the end of November,” Abbie said, trying to draw his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Surely there must be a recipe somewhere for bumbling professors who forget to do this ahead of time and can't even figure out how to work their oven?” he asked. He placed his hand over hers on the mouse, moving the cursor so he could click back and try a different search on Google. He leaned over her and typed in instant Christmas pudding.

“How do you plan on hosting an entire dinner if you can't work the oven?” Abbie asked, turning in her seat to look at him.

“Frozen lasagna in a pan?” he said with a laugh. Her eyes opened in shock. “I'm teasing, Lieutenant. I can work the oven. I'm an excellent cook. I just can't get the hang of this damnable pudding. Sadly, baking is my downfall.”

She looked back at one of the recipes he had found. It was much faster than the ones they had been looking at and she did have most of the ingredients for it. She might need to make a quick trip to the market or call Jenny while she was still there. She hit print, wiggled out from under his arms, grabbed the copy of the recipe and went into her bakery with him following behind.

“I'll make a deal with you, Doctor Crane. I will make this and bring it to you tomorrow if I can taste just how good of a cook you really are,” Abbie said. She felt her cheeks grow warmer as she realized she just invited herself to this man's Christmas dinner. Jenny and Joe usually did their own thing on Christmas day while she spent the day in peaceful slumber but this would be nice. At least it would be if he said yes.

He didn't say anything right away. She was worried she had read something wrong. Maybe he was married and his wife was back home in England. Maybe he had a whole family.

“You want to spend the day with a gathering of boring historians?” he asked incredulously. She found it strange that he didn't seem to realize exactly how cute he was. That he seemed to think he didn't have any game.

“No, I want to spend the day with you,” Abbie said, her cheeks on fire now.

“I'd like nothing more,” he said, looking down like he was shy, his eyelashes fluttering away, before he looked up at her and smiled. She smiled right back and hoped like hell she could actually figure out how to make a pudding in one night.

*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Abbie had a hard time finding the right address in the blowing snow but eventually she made it, Christmas pudding in hand along with as many other of her baked goods as she could carry. Dinner with Jenny and Joe the night before had been wonderful and she crawled into her bed soon after the gifts were exchanged and they left for the evening. Up early, she was at her bakery trying her best to make this pudding seem authentic. There was no way she could make up for the time it really needed, but she thought she did a good job. If the guests didn't like that, they could always fill up on the pies.

She used the heavy door knocker and waited with all her parcels for Doctor Crane to open the door. His eyes lit up when he saw that it was her and he took as many of the packages from her as he could.

“Lieutenant! I'm so happy you're here! I was worried that the weather would prevent you from traveling to my home...as it has some of my other guests. Two couples have canceled out so far,” he said as he started toward the kitchen.

“You can call me Abbie... where would you like for me to leave my boots?” Abbie asked, not wanting to track snow through the house. Both had their arms filled with desserts and Crane motioned for her to follow him. Abbie did as he led her down a narrow hall to a warm and cozy kitchen. Everything smelled delicious and she could see that he had been chopping vegetables when she had interrupted him with her knock at the door. “You really can cook.”

“As I said, cooking I can do. Baking just goes wrong. All those precise measurements makes it like a science experiment. I prefer the magic of cooking instead. A little bit of this. A little bit of that,” Crane said, taking more baked goods from her arms and stacking them up on one of his granite counter tops. Abbie slipped off her scarf and coat and pulled her snow boots off, leaving her in just her stocking feet. She had her favorite lace-up boots in the large tote she had brought with her but Crane had whisked her wet winter gear off to where it could dry by the fire and was already back, asking her questions about what she had brought with. And if she had brought more donut holes.

“Yes, I did and some other donuts you might enjoy. You can save them for tomorrow, if you'd like. They would go great with a cappuccino,” she said, noticing the gourmet coffee maker he had tucked beside the toaster. “I thought you said you were only here for a short time.”

He followed her gaze and smiled. “Doesn't matter how short the time might be, I can't go without my coffee,” he said, going back to his chopping. “So, Lieutenant...”

“Abbie.”

“So, Abbie, how did you end up with a bakery?” he asked. Abbie fell silent as she collected her thoughts. She watched Cranes hands and his fingers as he deftly chopped vegetables, adding them to a stew that already smelled delicious. He was smartly dressed in a pair of dark gray flannel trousers and the most beautiful blue cable knit sweater she had ever seen on a man. She wanted to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. Instead, she focused on what he had asked.

“I...uh... after I got shot and I couldn't come back to work, or at least not the way I wanted to, I thought it would be nice to have a place like that. It was supposed to just be a coffee shop but there are too many of those in town already,” she said.

“Starbucks on every block, cutting out any local coffee houses with precision,” Crane said, his kitchen knife stabbing into the air as if to illustrate his point.

“So I opened the bakery that would also serve coffee. Honestly, after the incident... after I lost a few very good friends in that incident...”

“I sense one of them might have been more than good friends?” he asked, looking at her as if he was trying to suss out everything there was to know about her.

“Mind your business, professor. Anyway, after that, I thought it would be a great place where the local LEOs could come in the morning. I'd serve them some warm apple pie if their shift was ending or a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee if their shift was just starting. It was a way to stay connected, you know,” Abbie said, remembering how desperately she needed to keep close with the people she relied on for so long. “I wasn't the best baker at first but I was determined. I learned from some of the best and now my little shop is doing rather well, and my friends are all still there bright and early in the morning. Good thing I love mornings, right?”

He had stopped chopping and was staring at her intently, taking in every word she said. Just looking in his eyes sent a wave of heat through her and she crossed her arms, trying to protect herself from this feeling. It had been a long time since Luke had died. And then Corbin was killed a year later. She had shut herself off from most everyone. She had that one fling with that visiting FBI agent but she even kept him distant. But this... was charged with some sort of electricity she hadn't felt with anyone in so long.

“That's really incredible,” he said, still focused only on her.

“It's just a bakery. Look at you, Doctor Crane. Where did you go to school anyway? How did you get involved with American history when you have ages of history of your own?” Abbie asked, trying to deflect the attention away from herself.

“I grew up in London, went to Oxford... Merton College. I ended up in America when a friend talked me into doing further studies here, I was married for a very short while but she then ran off with that same so-called friend. I got my doctorate from Penn, which is where I discovered the answer to the other part of your question. The history of our two countries is entwined and I found it fascinating. Now I'm doing more research into the British officers who turned. What would drive them to fight for a land that was not their home? And this is a great area in which to do so,” Crane said.

He was starting to clean up the scraps of vegetables when his cellphone rang. He wiped his hands off on a dishtowel and answered the call. Abbie listened as he went through a series of “uh huhs” followed by a “that's too bad.”

“Now the Andrews can't make it. They don't want to venture out into what might become a blizzard. They are new here, from somewhere in Georgia, so that's understandable but still... I hope the others can make it,” Crane said.

“Do you miss England? London?” Abbie asked. He paused from his mixing and stirring and thought about it for a beat.

“Have you ever been there?” he asked instead of answering.

“No. I made it to Paris after I started the bakery but didn't make it to London,” she answered.

“It was my home. Yes, I miss it but home isn't necessarily always a place. It's the people. I try to find the right people wherever I go. My ex-wife, Kat, didn't like that. She wanted to settle down in one place and with Abe, she could. I wanted to keep moving. To keep learning. To keep meeting people,” he said. He looked at her and smiled brightly. “People like you. I would have never met you had I stayed in England.”

“You never know. Fate might have stepped in. I might have been there on vacation and bumped into you in a coffee shop,” Abbie said.

“Our fates are entwined, just like our nations?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush again from the way he was looking at her. “Maybe.”

*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Abbie was putting the finishing touches on the dining room table, enjoying how nicely the place was decorated. It wasn't over the top for Christmas but he had a fresh tree and candles everywhere and a nice table setting. Crane even had Christmas crackers at every place setting, waiting to be popped open by cheerful guests.

She stopped moving when she heard Crane's phone ring again. Another guest was canceling because of the snow. She felt a bad for him because of all the work he had put into preparing this meal but then again, she wouldn't mind eating with him... alone. She returned to the kitchen to find him opening a bottle of wine. He poured himself some and took a sip before pouring her a glass, too. It was a fantastic red wine and now she was also glad they didn't have to share that bottle with as many people.

“That was Trevor, one of the doctoral candidates I'm helping out. He said the snow on his side of town is getting too deep for him to venture out on foot and he doesn't want to pay for an Uber. Too be honest, I think Trevor would rather spend his day with his new X-Box but what do I know?” he asked with a disappointed shrug “I haven't even taken my new one out of the box yet. Trevor is the lucky one.”

“So, who is left?”Abbie asked. She would have to go clear another place setting, which only left four.

“Doctor Hashemi and her husband. That's it. I didn't expect so much snow on Christmas. Everyone kept saying they never get a white Christmas. They're getting one this year!” he said, taking another sip of wine and looking out the window. “I'm going to have to go shovel the path soon. If you want to get home before the roads get too treacherous, you can. I don't want you to feel that you have to stay here,” he said, pouting a little as he considered the snow.

“No, I'm good. I've lived here all my life and I've driven in worse than this. Besides, I can help you shovel the sidewalk,” she said, standing beside him as they looked out of the kitchen window over the sink. His narrow backyard was pristine white now and although she wasn't fond of shoveling, it did look like it would be fun to play in. If that involved playing with him.

“They are going to miss out on the best pudding ever,” Crane said with a smile.

“How did you end up responsible for this Christmas dinner?” Abbie asked.

“I do like to cook. I thought it would be nice to get together with friends and colleagues and enjoy a nice meal,” he said. The phone rang again and he looked at it and sighed heavily. He turned away from the window and took the call. When he hung up, he looked at her and shook his head. “Samira and Bahram will not be able to make it, either.”

“You wanted dinner with your friends but now instead, you're stuck with a stranger,” Abbie said, honestly feeling sorry for him.

“If we do get snowed in here, at least we will have plenty of food,” he said, looking around the kitchen at everything. He didn't say anything else for a moment before he turned to her. “And I don't consider spending time with you as 'stuck' and I don't feel like you're a stranger at all. I feel like I've known you longer than just one day. It's like we've been friends forever.”

She laughed nervously because she had been feeling the same way.

“At least I don't have to worry about serving that rushed Christmas pudding to anyone. Unless you plan on eating it?” she asked.

“God, no. I never liked them in the first place but I had promised the Andrews. We can just stick to the donut holes,” he said and they both laughed.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

He had put on a suit coat over his button-down shirt and his gorgeous sweater and Abbie finally put on her shoes, not wanting to dine without them on while he was trying his best to look like the perfect holiday host. They had agreed that shoveling the walk could wait until after dinner and he poured her more wine before they put the last side dish on the table. He pulled out her chair for her and helped her take her seat before tucking himself in.

“This is all good. Next Christmas, I'm going to make you some of my mama's mac and cheese, though. That's the only thing missing,” Abbie said.

“Next Christmas?” he asked, his one eyebrow arching up on his forehead.

“I'll still be here. How about you?” she asked, taking another serving of the stew she had found him preparing when she arrived.

“I don't know, to be honest. I'd have to have a pretty good reason to stay,” he said, tilting his head slightly, asking so many questions without using a single word.

“So, do you believe in fate?” Abbie asked. It was a pretty serious question for holiday dinner conversation but she wanted to know everything he felt and believed.

“Do you mean that two people are supposed to meet? Across time and space and all that? Over and over?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I don't know. Does this mean that I keep meeting my ex-wife first? Because to be honest with you, getting my heart broken like that over and over and over would become rather exhausting. And annoying,” he said and they both laughed. 

“So she wasn't your soulmate but she taught you a lot, I'm sure. All part of the path to the right thing?” Abbie asked.

“I did learn a lot about who to trust and that sometimes you just have to do your thing first before you can bring someone else into your life. That is one thing she did teach me,” he said with a shrug. “Thankfully we didn't have children together. That would have been a disaster!”

They both fell silent. She watched him as the flickering candles sent shadows over his face. He was watching her right back, nervously smoothing out his beard before focusing back on the dinner at hand.

“Dessert?” she asked, breaking the tension filling the air.

“Capital idea! And I'll make coffee!”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

With their stomachs full, the dishes done, and fueled up on coffee, they bundled up in protective gear and headed outside during a break in the snow to shovel the walk. He only had one snow shovel so they took turns while one of his neighbors up the street used his noisy snowblower. Finally, he finished and went inside, leaving the two of them alone in the eerie stillness. There was the sound of the shovel scraping and him asking her questions about her life and her taking the shovel from him and asking him more questions about his.

Just when they had finished, the snow starting drifting down again and Abbie sighed. The good thing about her apartment was someone else did this! Crane put the shovel near the front door and returned to where Abbie was standing, catching snowflakes on her tongue.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his. “I have not even known you for an entire day and I'm smitten, Abbie. If this was fate, then yes I believe in it. Absolutely. Completely.”

Abbie's heart starting beating hard in her chest when he said those words and she didn't know what to say. She felt the same way about him but... it was so fast. Is this how it worked? You met the one and it was like throwing a switch?

Instead of saying anything, she led him toward the part of the yard where the snow wasn't too deep but was packed just enough and pulled him down into it, urging him to make a snow angel. He complained about the wet and the cold only briefly before he joined in. As her arms were forming the angel wings, he propped himself up beside her to look at her.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over here.

“You truly are heaven sent,” he said, pulling her scarf away from her face just enough so he could lean in to kiss her. It was slow and soft at first, like the snow drifting around them. Slowly. Softly. The snow was falling and Abbie was falling, too. Her lips explored his and she wanted to feel more. To explore every bit of him. She touched his face but her damn gloves were in the way. He pulled away, his eyes searching hers. She shivered from the cold and from the way his eyes were devouring her.

“Should we go in and warm up?” Abbie asked.

“I have some wonderful ideas on how we can do that,” he said, his voice dropping. She scrunched up her nose and giggled at him. “No! I meant we could sit by the fire and have a drink... I didn't mean to sound so forward! Abbie, I'm sorry!”

“I wasn't laughing about you being so forward. I was laughing because I had plenty of ideas of my own. But starting with a drink by the fire would be good,”she said. He stood up, put his hand out to assist her to her feet, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they walked to the door.

“What ideas do you have?” he asked.

“I'll just have to show you.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

She swallowed the Scotch and felt it warm her all the way down. After getting out of her snow boots and her coat again, she settled down on his couch while he tuned in to a satellite radio channel playing jazzy Christmas music. The old house had several fireplaces in different rooms and the one in the living room was now stoked to a roar.

Abbie made herself at home and covered up with a soft and worn plaid quilt that had been over the back of the couch. Crane sat beside her and took a long sip from his glass.

“I have to tell you... I don't do this very often. I rarely have the bakers I meet on Christmas Eve spend the next day at my house helping shovel snow and set the table,” he said.

“I rarely go home with my customers,” she said. “Only the special ones who are desperate for a Christmas pudding.”

“Yes, I only invite over the bakers with the best donut holes,” he joked. They both fell silent for a quiet, comfortable minute. “I want to see you again. I don't want to do anything that would make you not want to come back.”

“You haven't done anything yet.”

“I want to.”

“I want you to.”

He set his glass aside and pulled her to him. His mouth was warm and tasted of Scotch. The blue sweater he had on was as soft as she imagined it. Didn't matter. She wanted it off of him. Wanted everything off of him. Wanted him on the floor in front of the fire. Wanted him.

A moan escaped his throat as her tongue delved past his lips, meeting his. Heat burned through her, settling between her thighs and she thought about how crazy this all was but she certainly wasn't going to stop. She pulled away from his kiss and stood up, putting the quilt over her shoulder and reaching out to him. He grabbed her hands and she knew he'd follow her anywhere right now. She put the quilt down in front of the fire and they both sank down to their knees on it. The twinkling lights from the Christmas tree danced across their skin and she pulled his sweater off over his head. He unbuttoned his shirt and shed it quickly. Abbie looked at his chest, gasping when she saw a scar across his heart.

“What happened?” she asked, her fingers running across it.

“It's silly, really. I was doing some research in grad school at a battlefield reenactment and I got in the way of something I shouldn't have. Thankfully, I had modern medical care and an ambulance that arrived in a matter of minutes,” he said. She leaned in to kiss the scar, running her lips across it, her tongue teasingly flicking out at his nipple. He moaned and leaned back away from her, sitting on his heels.

“I have scars, too,” she said.

“I'd like to see them,” he said and she pulled off her wool sweater, revealing her silky black bra.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a bullet wound on her abdomen. Abbie then unfastened her trousers and wiggled out of them, showing him the wound on her thigh that ended her career. “And here.”

Now his fingers explored her flesh, feeling where she had to be put back together with titanium and screws and stitches.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

“Not as much as it used to. Sometimes when it's cold and I have to shovel snow for some guy I barely know...” she teased and he rolled his eyes.

He motioned for her to lie down and she did, shivering as he continued his study of her with his mouth. Her thighs fell open to his gentlest demand and her back arched up when he kissed her clit through her thong. Crane tugged the tiny scrap of fabric down her legs and off and she closed her eyes, hardly able to believe this was happening.

He kissed up and down her thighs, teasing her until she couldn't take it anymore. She reached for him and showed him exactly what she wanted. His tongue danced over her clit and then inside of her and she couldn't stop moaning. His beard tickled and his hair kept flopping into his face and he'd have to push it back before diving back in. His hands would grab her hips and pull her closer but there was no way to be closer. Abbie's back arched as she came and all the lights seemed to grow brighter before fading into nothing. When her body finally calmed down, Crane climbed up beside her and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips, a combination of the two of them, and it was sweet.

“Better than any Christmas pudding could possibly ever be,” he said. She reached up and tucked a loose lock of his hair behind his ear.

“Since I didn't really expect anything like this to happen... I mean, I only expected dinner... I didn't exactly come prepared. Except with a lot of baked goods,” Abbie said.

“I haven't been with anyone in a long while – not since Kat. I was tested afterward because of that whole thing with... well, you know. So. I'm clean,” he said. She knew this was stupid. She was on birth control but still. Why did she want this person so badly that she'd throw away common sense and wisdom?

“So am I. Clean. And on birth control,” Abbie said.

“Well, then, Lieutenant... do you want to move somewhere more comfortable or do you prefer right here, by the warmth of the fire?” he asked. She liked it here, with the crackling fire and the lights filling the room. It looked and felt like Christmas. She always imagined being with a man she loved on Christmas, enjoying each other. This might not be love yet... but she was certain it could be soon enough.

She took off her bra and then fumbled with the buttons on his pants (who wore button-fly anything anymore?) but finally slid them down his narrow hips along with his silly Christmas boxers.

“Who was supposed to see these?” she asked, laughing at the ridiculousness of them.

“Can't a man enjoy some festive underwear for the holidays?” he asked. She was looking over his lean body and when her eyes got to parts she hadn't seen already, she forgot all about the boxers. He was already hard and it was impressive.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” she said, licking her lips in anticipation. He blushed, his eyes turned down shyly until she wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked it a few times. The thrust into her grip and she leaned in to flick the head of it with her tongue as her fingers kept moving.

“Uggh,”he managed to say as her tongue continued to dance around him. They surely looked ridiculous here in the middle of the living room on nothing but a quilt on the floor, nearly naked except for their socks. It was too cold to go without socks.

He moved quickly, and was on his knees with her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms around his neck, slipping into her body. He filled her completely and she was mesmerized by the way he was staring into her very soul as he thrust in and out of her. It was like he had known her forever. Like this wasn't their first time together.

Everything was a bit hurried and frantic but they could take it slow later. Right now they both needed to satiate this thing that was between them. He threw his head back when he came and cried out her name over and over and she never wanted this precise moment to end.

They fell down next to each other on the quilt, Crane struggling to catch his breath. She was only supposed to deliver a pudding. Just a pudding. Not pudding and sex.

Oh, but she was so glad it turned out that way.

“Please say you're staying the night?” he asked when he could finally speak coherently again.

“I have to go into my store at about 3 am and prepare for the day,” she said and he sighed with disappointment. “Unless I call my sister and ask her to go open the store. That's always an option. Or I could tell her I can't make it because of the snow but she'd never believe it.”

“I have nowhere to go tomorrow. I could come in with you and watch you while you bake,” he said and she looked at him with disbelief. “Oh, Abbie, I'd go anywhere to watch you.”

She laughed.

“You sure it's not to get more donut holes?” she asked.

“There is that, too,” he said.

She was snuggled in his arms under the glow of the tree, the quilt now partially wrapped around them. And Abbie knew without a doubt that fate was real and they were meant to be together this Christmas and every Christmas for the rest of their days.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

fin...


	3. Rosebury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surviving a traumatic event, Abbie Mills needs some time away from home. She rents a cute cottage in England but things keep breaking. The man who comes to help her knows nothing about repairing cottages but maybe he can help with other things that are broken in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another AU version of Abbie and Crane meeting in a different life and discovering that their fates really are entwined.

Ichabod stood in front of the twee little cottage that had belonged to his parents for most of his life and shook his head. They were on holiday in Bermuda and his brother somehow managed to break his leg skiing over the weekend so it was up to him to be the caretaker this week. 

He hated this job. 

Especially since an American would be here this week. They always wanted things like garbage disposers and mixing faucets and things he didn't realize existed until he spent some time in the States. They wanted things that were impossible to add to a quaint, old cottage. You couldn't have your stone fireplaces and claw foot tubs AND closet space. In life, you had to pick and choose. 

He chose not to stay in this village and help with the family cottage industry. It was only four little cottages but still, it wasn't his idea of how he wanted to spend his life. Thankfully, only one was hired out for the week and his brother didn't break his leg in the summer when they were all always filled and everyone was demanding. Ichabod could cope with just one American. 

Her name was Abigail Mills according to the printout he found on his mother's writing desk. Abigail was from somewhere in New York he had heard of many times before because of his stupid name. His parents thought it was cute. He did not. He was certain she'd comment on it if he had to introduce himself. Maybe he would just call himself Crane like he usually did and not mention the Ichabod part. He also wondered if their last name had been Golightly instead of Crane, would they have named his little sister Holly? Probably. That was their sense of humor. So he was named after some odd-looking schoolmaster who was murdered by a well-thrown pumpkin because he crossed paths with a bully. 

He grumbled as he found the poorly hidden key and unlocked the front door to Rosebury Cottage, telling his dad's big yellow Labrador Retriever he'd have to wait outside. Ichabod had to see how much firewood he'd need to bring in to make sure it was well-stocked and Abigail wouldn't have to call for more mid-week. He was thankful his mother had done most of the work already, making sure the linens were all perfect and that the kitchen was stocked with some basic necessities like tea and biscuits. 

He went out the backdoor to the pile of firewood kept dry under a tarpaulin and hauled in enough to top off the supply already inside. Ichabod quickly looked around the cottage again, making sure everything was in order one last time before tucking the key back under the doormat. His parents lived in a surprisingly modern house just across the now fallow and frost-covered field behind the cottage and that was where he was staying for the week. Staying and writing his latest novel, hoping to finish before his editor called him again. 

Looking back over his shoulder at the cottage one last time, Ichabod hoped that was the last he'd see of it for a few days. 

“Come on, Niles. Let's get a pint before we head home,” he said and the dog followed willingly. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Abbie stood in front of the small, pink cottage with the thatched roof and smiled. She desperately needed this holiday. She had been working non-stop at the local precinct for months before the... accident. Now she couldn't even remember what she had been working on leading up to that day. No matter how many times Captain Irving told her about how she had narrowly escaped death, none of it sounded real. aid her brain was just protecting itself or something like that. All she knew is that she had to get away from the office she didn't really remember and her sister who kept treating her like she was fragile. As if she could almost lose her again at any second. Abbie Mills had never been fragile and she certainly wasn't going to start being so now. Abbie Mills could take care of herself. 

The key was hidden right where the owner said it would be and she let herself in, dragging her luggage behind her. This place was very charming, not her usual modern style, but that's what she wanted anyway. To get away from everything that had been her normal style, including Luke. Last week, she had just discovered that before the accident, Luke had really been her style. Now the two of them didn't know what to do around each other. 

It really was best that she got away for a while. After a week here, she planned to spend a few days in the London and then go on to see some of Scotland before she'd have to fly home. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget about home for now. Not that she hadn't already forgotten a large part of it. 

She'd make herself a cup of tea before she unpacked and settled in for the night. That seemed like the British thing to do. Make a cup of tea. She found the kettle and a box of something called Yorkshire Gold next to a tin of cookies. When she turned on the tap to fill the kettle, nothing happened. Not a drop. 

“Ahhh, damn,” Abbie said. She looked under the sink, thinking perhaps the water was turned off while the cottage was vacant, but when she went to twist the valves, they wouldn't budge. She looked around for some simple tools but found nothing. With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the counter and looked at the sink. She could try the other taps or she could call the number written on the paper stuck to the refrigerator with a huge magnet. Someone had scrawled in big, happy letters “Call if you need anything!” above the number and she could only assume it was the owner. Instead of doing that, she went and tried the water in the bathroom sink. Nothing came out of that faucet either. 

She thought about looking outside to see if she could find if it was turned off out there but she didn't even know where to start. She looked at the number and dialed it from her cell, thankful that she had service here. Of course, she could have used the antiquated phone hanging in the kitchen. She didn't even know people had landlines anymore but then again, people didn't usually live in little pink fairy cottages. 

“Hullo... I mean, Crane's Holiday Cottages. How can I help you?” a gruff voice said after a number of rings. This didn't sound like the voice attached to the hand that wrote “Call if you need anything!” and then added a smiley face to it. 

“Hey. Hi. My name is Abbie Mills and I'm staying in one of your cottages. The pink one. The thing is, when I went to turn on the water, nothing came out. I tried all the faucets but there was nothing.” She was met with a long moment of silence. “I even tried to find some tools. Listen, you could just tell me how to turn it on to the whole place and I can do it.”

She was met with a little more silence before she heard some mumbling and then, “Oh, give me a few minutes. I'll be right over.” 

Then he was gone. 

“Hmmph,” she said as she hung up her phone. This wasn't going like she imagined it at all. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Ichabod hung up the phone and looked at the cursor blinking in front of him on his laptop. He had just hit his stride and naturally the damn phone had to ring. No water. No bloody water. Because he had forgotten to turn it on when he stopped by. His father had reminded him over and over to go do that but he forgot anyway. They didn't normally turn it off in the winter but Brucie the plumber had been out last week and on and on and on. So the water was off. 

He hit save and closed his laptop, pocketed a torch and took the keys to his dad's car off the hook by the door. He didn't feel like walking across the empty field at this hour but Niles still wanted to come along. The big dog climbed into the front seat of the little Mini Cooper and they set off down the road to the cottage. 

When he pulled to a stop in front of it, he noticed that all the lights were turned on and for some reason that annoyed him. One person couldn't possibly need every light in the cottage. He and Niles strode toward the front door but before he could knock, a petite woman opened it and smiled. 

“Hi, I'm Abbie Mills and oh! Who is this? Hello there,” she said, stooping down to Niles' level and letting him lick her face. “You're beautiful! What a good... boy? Girl?” 

“Boy. Good boy,” Ichabod said, hoping to get this over with so he could get back to his writing. Abbie stood back up and looked at him, putting her hand out to shake his. She was beautiful, her dark hair falling around her face in natural curls. When he took her hand in his, he held it there for just a little too long. Her skin was so soft and...

He reminded himself he was here about the water and then he had to get back to the writing. He wasn't here to chat up this American. 

“I'm Abbbie Mills,” she said, pulling her hand away and returning to pet Niles who was nudging at her anxiously.

“You already said that.”

“Oh. I guess I did.” 

“I'm... Crane. Let me get your water turned on and you can get back to enjoying your holiday,” he said, turning on the torch and walking to the side of the house. Abbie was following him with Niles right behind her. 

“You could have told me what to do... oh,” she said when he shone the light on the collection of antiquated pipes mixed in with new pipes. Even Crane was a bit lost with Brucie's haphazard plumbing repairs but luckily, someone had left a large red tag on the valve that needed to be turned. 

“Shall we go see if it works?” he asked and she nodded, leading the way back to the front door. She went in but he stayed outside. He didn't want to intrude. He stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting to see if he had fixed the problem. 

“Are you a vampire? You can come in,” she said with a laugh. Crane stepped over the threshold but Niles sat down outside. “He can come in, too. If he's allowed to, that is.” 

“Not normally,” Crane said. Abbie whistled and called for the dog and he came running in. “You now have a friend forever.”

“Come here, puppy,” she said as she sat on the couch, playing with the dog's ears. 

He found himself staring at her just a second too long. He put up a finger and nodded toward the kitchen, needing to get this done with and escape back to his writing before she smiled at him again. “I'll be just a moment whilst I check the water. You stay here, Niles.” 

He went into the kitchen and turned on the water, waiting until the air went through the lines and water was flowing steadily out. He leaned forward and looked out the window over the empty field and could see the tiny speck that was the front light of his parents' house. It flickered every so often and he was surprised they never fixed that but it was comfortable, something always being so predictable. 

“So...” she said behind him, startling him from his reverie. 

“You have running water now. And I see the electricity works,” he said, turning around and nodding at all the lights. 

“Sorry! I was checking out the place. It's so cute. And now I can take a long, hot bath in that gorgeous tub,” she said absentmindedly. “But first, tea.”

She retrieved the kettle from the counter next to him and he looked through a few of the cabinets until he found what he knew for sure his parents would have in here. He really needed to get going. Really needed to go now. 

“You can use the electric tea kettle,” he offered. She considered it and then shook her head and filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove and turning on the burner. He hoped she didn't ask for any loose leaf tea. Even in this charming little cottage that looked right out of a fairy tale, he knew they didn't have that anymore, which he found disgraceful. 

“So, are you the handyman? The owner? Caretaker?” she asked as she pulled out two tea cups. He guessed he was staying for tea. He really shouldn't but Niles certainly looked happy about this turn of events. Ichabod really, really needed to get back to his book. Get away from this charming woman. 

“None of those, actually. My parents own a handful of cottages in the area and my brother is usually the caretaker when they are out of town, but he's unable to do so this week so here I am,” he said. He found the bowl of sugar easily and placed it by the tea cups before sitting down on one of the stools by the counter. 

“What do you usually do?” she asked. 

“Write. I'm a novelist,” he said, knowing what question was coming next. 

“Anything I would have heard of?” she asked. He was used to that always being the next question. He was also used to no one ever having heard of his only novel when he did answer. 

“Have you heard of 'Chasing the North'?” he asked. The kettle had just started to whistle before she could answer and he was sure this was a good thing. She didn't go and fetch the kettle even though it was shrilling now. 

“Wait, you're Samuel Kestrel?” she asked, looking at him quizzically. “You said Crane at the door.”

“Not much gets by you. Samuel Kestrel is my nom de plume,” he answered. She nodded her head and fetched the kettle, returning to pour hot water into the two mugs. He took out the tea bags, dunking them in and allowing them to steep. 

“I was a detective. A lieutenant. I guess I still am a detective, actually. I catch little things like someone using an alias. But back to your book – I love that book! I've been waiting for you... for Samuel Kestrel to write another one,” she said. 

“He's... I'm working on it right now. Or I was. Until you needed water,” he said and her eyes grew wide. 

“Oh! Please don't let me keep you. Had I known, I wouldn't... well, I would have called for the water but I wouldn't have invited you in,” she said. His tea was almost ready and he wasn't going to leave without having a sip of it at least. It was really the least he could do since she went to the trouble of boiling the water. 

“I promise, Lieutenant Mills, I will get back to writing as soon as I'm finished with my tea,” he said, taking a biscuit from the tin. She came around the counter and sat down beside him. 

“Leftenant,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “I can't believe I'm finally here in England.” 

“Indeed you are. You are going to need more than a tin of biscuits this week. You didn't hire a car?” he asked. 

“I didn't really think about it.”

“There's a little market down the road. They don't have much... not like your American grocery stores... but they have a nice selection of staples. And the butter they sell... you'll never think about butter in the same way,” he said before he realized he was rambling on. 

“Is your name Samuel?” she asked, picking out a biscuit. He grimaced at her question. 

“No. It's Ichabod Crane,” he answered. She stopped mid-nibble. 

“I'm sorry? Really? Did your parents hate you?” she asked, wiping the crumbs from her chin. 

“They thought it was clever,” he said. 

“Do you have siblings?” 

“They have normal names. There weren't all that many famous Cranes with horrible first names in literature to choose from. So they are Jonathan and Marion,” he answered. 

“Ah. I see. You know I'm from Sleepy Hollow, right?” she asked. 

“I do,” he said. 

“Surely there are other famous Cranes in movies or television... oh.”

“Yes. That came after we were born.”

“So... Niles.” 

“His predecessor was indeed Frasier. He died nearly six years ago.”

Abbie laughed and then yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I'm so sorry. Jet lag,” she said. Ichabod stood up and motioned for Niles to come with him. 

“I won't keep you any longer, Lieutenant Mills,” he said, buttoning up the coat he never took off. “I hope you enjoy your week here and get plenty of rest. If anything else doesn't work, you know where to find me. Actually, here. Let me give you my mobile number, too. I don't plan to be away from home often... writing, you know... but just in case.” 

He took the sheet of paper his mum had left on the fridge and jotted his number down next to the one already there. 

“Thank you, Ichabod,” Abbie said. 

“Crane. Crane is fine,” he said, rolling his eyes at the sound of his own name. 

“Thank you, Crane. Now go get writing! I can't wait to see what you come up with next!” she said, walking him and Niles to the door. It had grown even darker since he had been in the cottage and he was glad he didn't have to walk across the field. They said goodbye one more time and she slowly closed the door. 

For the first time in a long time, he hoped that something in this cottage might just break down. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Abbie woke up shivering. She had snuggled under as many blankets and quilts as she could find overnight but it had grown icy by morning. She didn't want to call Crane in the middle of the night. He was probably writing and she didn't want to disturb him. Her first day here had been lovely. She slept a lot and then sought out the market to buy some bread, cheese, and that butter she now could no longer live without. 

The cottage had grown chilly by bedtime and at first she thought it was her imagination. She was used to cold and this wasn't really that cold. It was more damp than she was used to but it wasn't like being trapped in a blizzard. But by 3 a.m., she was searching all the rooms for any blankets she could find and she had put on the one pair of sweatpants she had brought with her for the plane ride home. 

She could start a fire in the fireplace. That would warm things up. She thought about it in the middle of the night but was afraid of falling asleep with a fire burning. Now it would save her from having to call Crane so early in the morning and she could enjoy the toasty fire while eating breakfast. 

Abbie piled up a number of logs on the grate, added kindling, and found a box of long matches. Before she could even get the fire stoked, smoke was backing up into the place and it smelled horrible. 

“Damn it,” she said, trying to fix the problem as fast as she could. Or at least not make it worse. Unfortunately, it was getting worse and she didn't want to light the small cottage on fire. She was going to have to call Crane to help her. Or at least let him see what damage was done. Oh, and to fix the furnace. 

He answered quickly and she apologized for the early hour. He told her not to worry about it but she could hear that tone in his voice and she knew he'd rather be doing a million other things rather than taking care of his parents' property. 

“Open the windows if you can,” he said. “Niles and I will come through the field behind the cottage. It's time for his morning walk anyway.”

She hung up and thought about changing her clothes but she was too cold. Instead, she opened as many windows as she could to let the smoke escape and grabbed a quilt to cover up with as it grew even colder in the house. 

Watching out the back window, she saw Crane and the dog in the distance, walking with a confidant strut across the empty field. The dog was a little more confidant than Crane but he did look like a man who knew how to fix a furnace – or he was extremely good at pretending he could. Especially since he had no tools with him this time. Hopefully he knew the number of someone who could fix it. 

He was dressed rather nicely for this early in the morning but Abbie realized it only felt incredibly early to her. It was actually 10 a.m. He had on a long, navy blue coat and a pair of black boots as he walked though the frosty field. She didn't know what she was expecting. Jeans? A T-shirt? 

Suddenly she wished she had changed her clothes. She was still wearing nothing but a gray hoodie, sweatpants from her Alma Mater, several pairs of socks and a quilt. He knocked on the door at the back of the cottage and she realized it was too late now. 

She opened the door and his eyes danced over her body. I guess it didn't matter that she was wearing a quilt. He caught himself and cleared his throat and stood up straight. 

“Lieutenant Mills, I apologize deeply for the way this cottage has been acting since your arrival. Mother wants me to assure you that this is not how it usually behaves and if you'd like to change to a different location, you most certainly are welcome to do so,” he said. Niles sat down next to his feet but was restless to get to Abbie. 

“The cottage... is acting up?” she asked. Crane merely nodded his head once. “I didn't know cottages could misbehave.”

“It is a story for after I examine the current situation. If you'd like to move to another cottage, I'll be glad to get the car later and move you and your belongings,” he said. 

“I love this place. And apparently it's convenient for you to walk to,” she said and they both stared at each a little too long, him trying to eek out the meaning of what she just said. Avoiding it, she bent down to focus on petting Niles. The dog was in heaven. 

“You want to start with the chimney or with the furnace?” she asked. He didn't say anything too quickly and she knew he'd rather be at home writing. Or at least not doing repairs. 

“I'll look at the fireplace. I at lease have working knowledge of those,” he said, stepping into the cottage with Niles trailing behind. He went into the sweetly decorated sitting room and looked at the sooty mess. “Yes, that's a fireplace.” 

She laughed at his joke and he gave her a quick smile before he took off his coat and offered it to her. 

“Thank you,” she said as she put the quilt aside and slid into the coat. She was swimming in all the wool but it was so warm from his body heat and she found herself sniffing the collar before she could stop herself. Something woodsy and clean. Something very manly. Something intoxicating. 

His dark pants were tucked into his boots (Wellies, she thought they might be called) and he had on a green and blue flannel shirt that looked so soft and she fought off the crazy image she had in her head of her wearing it to bed. 

He leaned by the fireplace and poked around in it with the fire iron and made a face. 

“I think something died in the flue,” he said. “God's wounds! What the hell is this?” 

He prodded at it a little longer and something large and covered in ash flopped out onto the logs on the grate. It smelled terrible and Abbie took a step back. 

“That is disgusting,” she said. Niles barked in agreement. Crane put up his index finger, motioning for her to wait, and he went to the kitchen and returned with everything he needed to clean up the mess. 

“I'm going to call Eddie. He takes care of the chimneys on the cottages. And instead of making a mess of the furnace, I'm going to call Gareth. He takes care of that. Like I said, Lieutenant Mills, if you'd like to stay at another cottage, you are more than welcome to. This is the only one with a claw foot tub, though,” Crane said. He was wiping his hands on a dishtowel after bagging up the creature from the flue. 

“I love this cottage already! It has a personality,” Abbie said. She really did love the tub and didn't want to leave it behind. 

“That it most certainly does. I wish it would behave,” Crane said loudly, as if he expected the cottage to hear. “But if you desire to stay, that is fine with me. Why don't you come to the house with me until the repairs are done? I'll cook you lunch. It will make Niles very happy.”

She looked at his blue eyes and he gave her a shy smile before combing his fingers through his hair. It flopped right back into place. And she knew that even thought he didn't say it, Niles wouldn't be the only one that would be happy if she'd come with for lunch. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Crane was strangely nervous. He kept flexing his hands like he'd rather be typing every time he'd talk to Abbie. Muscle memory? He didn't know. It was familiar and comfortable and he couldn't stop. She sat at counter in his mum's thoroughly modern kitchen and asked him question after question about his life. He didn't know why he was nervous around her. She was just on holiday. Staying in one of the family cottages. But she was also the first person who he felt a connection to since his disastrous marriage came to an end two years ago when he couldn't produce another novel and more money fast enough for Trina's needs. 

“How did your parents ever end up renting out cottages?” Abbie asked, taking a sip of the red wine he had offered her. He started chopping vegetables for the sauce and Niles was standing nearby in case something good hit the floor. 

“When I was very young, my dad was a history professor at Oxford. My mum did odd jobs when she got bored but mostly she raised my siblings and me. When I was about seven, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and her fight was... it was tough on all of us. After she found out she was in remission, both my dad and mum decided to do something they've always wanted to do, which would be to buy some cottages around here, fix them up to be as twee as...”

“Twee?”

“Twee... quaint. Sweet. Rosebury Cottage, where you are staying, is the definition of twee. As you can tell, my parents don't live like that but they do enjoy everything about what they do,” he said with a sigh, remembering all the arguments he had with his dad when he decided to leave here. 

How the arguments just got more intense when he didn't continue on at Oxford and eventually become a professor himself but rather joined the army for a short time before getting injured and ending up living in London. How Dad always favored Jon, who was so much more like him and was happy with this business and little life. How his dad was only vaguely proud of him after he made the best-sellers list while his mum was over the moon. 

Like a lot of sons and fathers, they just weren't ever going to really understand each other. 

Abbie was dressed nicely in a pair of dark jeans and a purple top. She had on boots that made her a little bit taller but not by much and her hair was pulled back but the curls still cascaded everywhere. She was gorgeous and when they walked together across that field, he was so tempted to take her hand in his. 

But he didn't. 

But he wanted to. 

“So, Crane, what can you tell me about the next book?” she asked, giving him a curious smile. 

“So, Lieutenant, what can you tell me about why you liked the first one so much?” he asked instead, trying to escape that question. 

“What is there not to like? You have a black heroine who is powerful and beautiful and smart and yet gets to fall in love. Your hero isn't perfect but he knows she is and lets her shine. All set during the American Revolution. Trying to get to Canada on their own. I love it,” she said. 

“Hmm... some reviewers said it was too good to be true. The world would never work like that, especially then” he said, adding more vegetables to the pot on the flame. 

“It was hopeful,” she said with a shrug. “So, is the next one hopeful?”

“Are you asking if Ephraim and Lucy end up happy together forever? Perhaps you should read the fan fiction,” he said and she looked completely puzzled. He didn't want to get into that topic with a relative stranger. “This one isn't part of that world or that story. I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you but I thought I'd try my hand at something in the modern world. It’s a fantasy set in present day London.”

“How is that going?” 

“Some days are painful but the research is a lot easier. And I can just make things up,” he said and she smiled, making her whole face glow. He was going to offer to let her read a few pages but his mobile phone rang. He wiped off his hands before answering it. “Hullo? Um hm.” 

Gareth was going on about how much it would fix the furnace and asking if he shouldn't check with the elder Cranes before doing so. Ichabod told him he'd pay for it and just get it done so the guest staying there could get back to enjoying her holiday. 

“If you want me to, I can move to another cottage. If that would save money,” Abbie offered. He thought about her in the yellow cottage that was across the village and he preferred her across the field in the pink cottage. 

“Don't you worry about a thing, Lieutenant. I want your holiday to be perfect and if you want to stay in that cottage, Gareth will get it fixed,” he said. 

She stood up and looked out the window across the field. 

“Where are the other cottages?” she asked. 

“One is on the other side of the village. It's a cute little stone thing and was my parents' first endeavor into their new life. It has an equally adorable name. The yellow one is closer to the woods. Also cute. And the other stone one is nearly two kilometers away. Not incredibly far but not as close as yours,” he said, looking at her. She was looking right back at him, holding his stare. 

“I like mine being this close.” 

“So do I,” he said before clearing his throat. “It makes it so much easier to get to for repairs.”

“Yes, it does,” she said and they both backed away from this thing pulling them together. 

“So, tell me, Lieutenant... why are you in Merry Old England?” he asked. She fell silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before answering. 

“Something happened on the job. I don't even really know what since I remember so little of it... and when they do tell me, I don't believe it. I seemed to have shut down a whole portion of my life, including the portion where I was dating this guy. He's a nice guy but I just didn't feel right staying in the relationship when I couldn't remember the relationship completely. The doctors say it will take time but I should heal and maybe even remember some of it eventually. I just needed to get away from everyone asking me if I was okay. I just wanted to be me for a while. So here I am,” she said, laughing nervously. 

Crane now was the one who stood there in silence, no longer stirring or chopping. She had come here to get away, recuperate and enjoy her time and it had been filled with nothing but a broken down and smoke-filled cottage so far. 

“Oh, Abbie. I'll insist that you get a refund for your week here. You thought you were headed for a respite and instead, you got stuck with dead things in the flue and a bumbling caretaker who can't remember to turn the water valve on,” he said. His father might not like the idea but he was sure his mum would be fine with it. “Are you sure you don't want to stay elsewhere?” 

She shook her head and smiled. “I'll stay. But you know what I'd like from you?”

“What?” he asked, feeling his heart beat nervously, his imagination running places it shouldn't go. 

“I'd like for you to show me the other cottages. And the village. Let's go for coffee tomorrow. Or tea if that's your thing,” she said. “Unless you have to write.”

“I do have to write.”

“I understand,” she said, her smiling wavering slightly. 

“But I do sometimes enjoy finding a quiet corner in a coffee house and writing a few chapters. It reminds me of working on my first novel... the one that was never published and for good reason. I'd love to take you to see the other cottages – if you love Rosebury, you're also going to love Wind Rush – and have coffee. Tomorrow. In the afternoon. That way I can write here in the morning for a while,” he said, babbling on now. He had absolutely no game when it came to asking women out and the fact that he managed to get one to marry him was an anomaly. 

“Perfect! You can write. I can sleep in and then enjoy that bathtub. You can show me around later,” she said. 

“Niles will be jealous of our day together,” Crane said with a smirk. 

“If my heat doesn't get fixed, Niles might be spending the night with me. To keep me warm,” Abbie said as he got the water ready for the pasta. 

“Lucky dog,” Crane muttered under his breath. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

She couldn't believe one more thing could break down in the place. After dinner last night, he walked her home across the field, the frost and ice on the ground now crunching under their shoes. Niles came along for the exercise, bounding ahead and then coming back to check on them as they made their way under the moonlight. Crane finally reached for her hand when they were halfway across the field and she could feel her heart begin to pound when he did so, even if he said he did it only so she didn't slip on the icy field. She was tempted to kiss him when they got to her doorstep. Was tempted to pull him into the bedroom when he came inside to check on the repairs. 

Instead, he whispered goodnight and said he really must get back to writing. She watched him and Niles make their way through the moonlight until she could barely see them anymore and then she got ready for bed. 

Now something was wrong with the refrigerator. She didn't have a lot of items to keep cold but she would like to be able to keep the milk and butter somewhere. Abbie looked at the time and didn't want to call Crane (again) yet. Despite the hand-holding, was he going to start to think she was breaking things just to get him here? Besides, he needed to write. 

The refrigerator let out an unnatural sound that made Abbie step back from it. She had dealt with dead refrigerators in her past but not any that moaned. 

She grabbed the phone and dialed it. 

“Crane? Something's up with the refrigerator. I know, I know. This is crazy but it's not cold and it's making a horrible noise,” she said. “I don't really have anything in there but I'm a bit worried. It can wait until later. After you're done writing. I... yes. Okay. I'll see you in an hour.” 

This time, Abbie did change out of her pajamas before he arrived. She took a quick bath before putting on her best fitting pair of dark jeans and her favorite shirt and leather jacket. She wasn't sure he'd still want to go out later but she wasn't taking any chances. 

Then she cautioned herself. He was coming over to look at the refrigerator, not her. If it weren't for the dinner and the hand-holding, she'd worry she was annoying. Actually, she was still worried. He was technically working, because writers write. That's what they do. And they need time to do it. She kept infringing on that time. 

But she needed a refrigerator that didn't let out a howl every ten minutes. 

The vigorous knock at the front door startled her and she rushed to open it. Crane waited for her to welcome him in but Niles had no such manners. He dashed through the door and circled around Abbie, impatient for her attention. 

“Do you ignore this poor dog?” Abbie asked, laughing as Niles yipped what might have been a 'yes' to her question. 

“Of course not. I do not offer him the same amount of attention as my parents do but he is well cared for. Fed. Watered. Walked. Usually over to here,” Crane said, arching an eyebrow at her. 

It was then that the refrigerator let out another sound – this one high pitched and worse than any of the other sounds it had made. Crane quickly walked over to the appliance and unplugged it. It still moaned a few more times even without power before finally falling silent. 

She watched as he hopelessly tinkered with it for a few minutes, doing that thing that men do where they pretend they know how to fix something before finally giving in and calling an expert. Abbie really didn't mind watching him. Today he had on another flannel shirt and what looked a bit like hiking boots. He stood there, stroking his beard, as he pondered the problem. 

“My mother always claimed there was a fairy in this cottage and she would do odd things to get attention. I'm starting to believe her story,” he said, pulling out his phone and looking through the contacts. 

“I wasn't warned about any supernatural beings living in this cottage. They should have put that on the webpage,” Abbie joked. Crane rolled his eyes at her as the person on the other end of the call answered. This particular repair person, Ian, would be over in the afternoon, but he could make no promises that he could fix this refrigerator again. 

“Are you quite certain you wouldn't rather stay in one of the other cottages?” Crane asked her again as he disconnected from his call. 

“I don't know. Maybe once I see them, I'll change my mind,” she said. She had no earthly reason to be attached to this place except it did make it so Crane had to come over to see what needed to be fixed and she got to spend time with him. “So, about this fairy?”

“My mother calls her Rosamund and thinks she moves around all our cottages, which is absurd. Why would she just pick out the Crane Cottages? Why not the entire village?” he asked. 

“Perhaps she only holds a grudge against your family?” 

“This week, she seems to not like you in particular,” Crane added. He then looked at his watch and back at Abbie “We are both ready for the day. Shall I show you those other cottages before anymore damage can be done to this one?”

“Oh, so you think I'm responsible! You probably think I'm doing this so you can keep me company,” Abbie said, her eyes locked on his as she flirted with him. She hadn't flirted like this with anyone in a long, long time. He flirted right back, staring at her with sparkling eyes, shifting his jaw slightly before speaking.

“I don't mind it at all.”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Crane wanted to hold her hand again, to feel her soft, warm skin against his. He wanted a lot more than that, actually, but he didn't even know how or when he'd even get the chance to hold her hand again. Last night, in the field, he had an excuse. Now? She was looking at the last cottage his parents owned and she was laughing and using the word 'twee' like she had known it forever. 

He felt like he had known her forever. 

As they were walking to the front door of Meadow Muse, she nearly slipped on one of the stepping stones and to steady her, he grabbed her hand. She didn't pull away once she had regained her balance and he certainly didn't let go. Instead, they walked to the front door of the stone cottage and he let them in. 

She did have to let go of his hand when they were inside and he immediately missed her touch. She looked around the cottage and commented that she liked Wind Rush more than this one but she liked Rosebury the best, even with all of the problems. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because it's the reason I got to meet you,” she said. “Since I don't want to change accommodations, should we go get that coffee we talked about?”

“Yes, that would be lovely. It's on the high street, which isn't too far from here. We could walk,” he said, hoping for another chance to hold her hand. 

“What about Niles?” 

“He can walk, too.”

“I meant, can he come with to the coffee shop?”

“Oh, everyone in the village knows Niles. I'm sure he'll be welcomed,” Crane said. Niles barked in agreement. Crane did clip a leash on the dog before they left and they started out down the narrow road in front of the cottage that led to the village. 

He did take her hand in his once more, thankful that it wasn't so cold that either of them needed gloves or mittens. It was such a minor thing, holding her hand, but it felt like it meant the world. Like everything was falling into place. How else would she have ended up here the week he had to take care of the cottages? Fate? Destiny?

Crane wanted to know everything about her and there were some things she wasn't willing to share just yet. He could wait, even though a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that she was only here for a week. She would then go on with her journey and he'd go back to his London flat. 

He would have to learn everything about this treasure of a woman before that happened. He wanted to know everything. Her dreams. Her wishes. The way she looked when...

Everything. 

He hoped she felt the same way, too. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Abbie loved to listen to him talk. He seemed to know a little something about almost everything and carried on animated discussions about politics and history or even the proper use of certain words and she was completely amused by the way his hands were part of the conversation. 

He would ask her questions about her life back in Sleepy Hollow and she was guarded about some of it. How would he ever understand what happened to her that night when she didn't even understand it? She didn't want him to judge her or think she was crazy. She had enough of that back home. 

Then again, she wasn't going to be here forever. Perhaps she could tell him. Either he'd stay or he'd go and in the end, she'd be getting a plane back to the States anyway. If he stayed, it could be fun for a few days... a pleasant release from all the stress she'd been under. She certainly wasn't looking for that when she booked this vacation. Had she wanted that kind of escapism, she would have booked something warm and sunny in the tropics, not winter in Europe. 

They sat side by side on a large leather couch in the coffee and tea shop and he didn't even mention writing once. Didn't even have anything with to write on or with. They just talked. 

“What are you running from, Abbie?” he asked her. He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear and she thought about lying but there was something in his eyes that let her know that no matter what she said, it would be okay. 

“Okay. The thing is, I don't remember all of it. I know what I've been told. I know it was supposedly something supernatural or other-worldly. But my mentor... he got killed by this thing and whatever killed him... anyway, I blacked out. Came to a few days later. Someone found me and took me to the hospital and I've been trying to remember it ever since. Or forget it all. Some days I'm not too sure what I'd rather have,” Abbie said, searching his eyes for any doubt in her story. 

There was none to be found there. 

“I had been living with someone before it happened but I don't remember much of how that came about. I remember working with him. I remember my sister. I know my mom passed years ago and my dad is worthless. But there's this fog and I just can't break through it,” she finished, waiting for him to say something. 

He put his cup of tea down on the table beside him and reached for her hands, holding both of hers in his. His eyes were still focused on hers, and he shifted his jaw as he thought about what to say. She wanted to pull away but instead, had a strange faith in him. A trust that he wouldn't judge her. Others had but he wouldn't. 

“Lieutenant... Abbie... I'm sorry you had to endure this. I'm sorry if anyone doubted you. I've experienced strange things in my life and I would never doubt you,” he said. She laughed nervously before he continued. “My parents used to think it was because of my name. I was trying to stir up some connection to a ghost or headless rider or whatever. That was ridiculous. Anyone who has read the story knows that Ichabod got killed by a jealous arse. But there are things out there. Things we can't control.”

“Like the fairy in the cottage?” she asked. He smiled and squeezed her hands reassuringly. 

“That fairy did me a favor, doing whatever it was she did to bring you to me,” he said. 

She wanted to kiss him and judging from the look in his eyes which were now just wide, dark pupils with a tiny ring of blue around them, he wanted it, too. Wanted more than a kiss. So did she. She wanted a lot more. 

He leaned toward her, his hands moving to her face and hers to his. Abbie tilted her head and her lips met his in a soft, somewhat shy first kiss. She moved closer, gently pulling his rosy bottom lip between her own lips, nipping at him lightly with her teeth. For a second, they forgot they were in a public place, and he drew her to him, nearly pulling her on his lap. The front door opened and the chatter of the latest customers broke the spell they were under. Abbie slid back to her spot on the couch, the heat from their kiss still burning through her. Crane shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks now as red as his lips. This was not what she planned for her vacation but she wasn't complaining. No, not at all. 

Niles looked up at them from where he had been sleeping and let out a joyful bark before dashing over to them, his leash in his mouth. He was ready to go back... to her place? To his? She didn't care. She was ready, too. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It felt like it took forever to get back to Rosebury. They had to walk to the car and then drive from one cottage to another. All of a sudden, this tiny village grew to the size of London. He would have held her hand the entire journey except he had to shift gears and maneuver the car around the narrow lanes. They finally pulled up in front of the pink cottage and he had to be sure he wasn't assuming she felt all the things he was feeling. He didn't want to mess this up. 

“Do you... I can go home if you'd... I don't want to...” he said, stumbling over what he was trying to ask her. 

“You better get into that cottage. Now,” she said, erasing any doubt he might have had. They even beat Niles to the front door. Crane took the key from Abbie and fumbled a few times while sticking it in the lock. She shrugged and laughed when he finally got it right. The three of them got through the door and Niles settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. What a good dog, Crane thought. 

He reached for Abbie, chasing after her as she walked to the bedroom, spinning her around until she fell in his arms. He picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping around his hips and her arms going around his neck as he pushed her against the plaster wall. She moaned as he kissed her again, and this time it wasn't so soft and sweet since they weren't out in public. 

He was hard already, the feel of her body against his nearly unbearable. Her mouth moved from his to his neck where she did the most magical things with her lips and her teeth. Crane tried to figure out how to get her out of her boots and jeans and get himself out of his trousers without leaving this spot on the wall but there was no way to make that work. There was another matter he had to ask about, too. 

“Abbie, I didn't really plan on this so I didn't bring along protection,” he said. She stopped with the wonderful thing she was doing with her mouth and leaned her head against the wall. 

“I was tested during... when I didn't remember what I had done in the past. I thought I should be. I'm clean,” she said, kissing him quickly on the lips. “And on birth control.”

“I've not been with anyone since my marriage ended. I was tested then. Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“With my life,” she said. She unwound herself from him and pulled him into the dark bedroom. His mum would murder him for this but he didn't care. 

He undressed her, the only light hitting her body coming from the hallway, but it was enough for him to see all her curves and the healed wound she had on her abdomen. Even with that, she was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wanted to worship her, to nestle between her thighs and stay there forever. He lifted her onto the edge of the bed and knelt down to do just that. She leaned back, her legs over his shoulders as he delved in, his tongue circling her clit before he sucked it between his lips, enjoying every moan she made. 

Sliding his fingers into her, he could only imagine how hot and wonderful she'd feel around his cock. They'd get to that. But first, this. First this and then as many days of this he could get. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer to her. It had been too long and this was all such a surprise... a welcome, wonderful surprise. They both giggled when her body made a funny noise and he had forgotten how much fun sex was when your partner wasn't angry at you. He had forgotten what it felt like to fall in love. Maybe she wasn't falling as hard for him as he was for her, but that didn't really matter right now. He lapped at her, his tongue and fingers trying to make her come, and when she finally did, she begged for him to keep going. He did, feeling her body shudder under his tongue as she came hard. 

“Come here,” she finally said, scooting back across the bed, her legs still parted. He stripped out of his clothing as quickly as he could, glad he didn't wear anything too complicated, and crawled up the bed to her. 

“You certain about this?” he asked one last time. 

“I want this. I want you,” she said, licking her lips. It was almost enough to make him come right then and there. Instead, she reached for him and he followed. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Abbie wasn't sure how this had happened so quickly but she was going to enjoy every second of it. She'd worry about the rest of it tomorrow or later or whenever she got home. Right now, she wanted to feel this man moving over her and inside of her. Wanted to wake up with him in the morning and do it all over again. 

She wrapped her legs high around his waist and he drove into her deeper and deeper, the solid oak headboard hitting the old plaster wall with each move he made. Thankfully, she hadn't picked out the room with the gorgeous antique fourposter bed. Though maybe they could move there later... she had lots of ideas for their remaining time together. 

With one quick motion, he had moved them so she was now on top, riding him as he played with her clit. She couldn't usually come again this fast but with him buried in her and his fingers... God, his fingers... she could feel it building up again already. He played with her breasts with his other hand, his touch gentle on her nipples. She grabbed his hand and pulled it up to her mouth, wanting to suck on those fingers while she had the chance. He groaned in pure bliss as she drew his index finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it. She'd have to do that to his cock later, maybe on that other bed. Maybe with him on the edge of the bathtub. 

He was covered with a sheen of sweat and their bodies slapped together with each move she made. He thrust up into her and when she tightened around him, he came, crying out her name as she continued to move above him, trying her best to drive him mad. 

When he could finally open his eyes and focus on her again, she smiled at him. He was pretty, his cheeks and lips even more flushed now than before. Most of the men before him, the ones she could remember at least, they had been guys. Looked good in a baseball cap kind of guys. He was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but he was different. In a good way. In the best way. 

She fell down beside him, curling up in his arms. He managed to cover them with a quilt and she didn't really want this moment to end. 

“Stay,” she said, making sure he had no plans to flee to his own place. 

“For as long as you're here, I'll be here,” he said. She played with the hair on his chest, wanting to remember everything about him. Wanting to remember this moment no matter what might happen. Wanting to fall asleep in his arms. 

Before she knew it, she was waking up to the low winter sun streaming through the window. The room was the perfect temperature. Nothing seemed to be broken. She could hear the new refrigerator humming in the other room. A soft drip of water coming from one of the faucets. Whatever the mischievous presence was that brought them together, it seemed to be happy now. Quiet. Abbie smiled and silently thanked Rosamund. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“You're staying with me in London,” Crane said. They were back at his parents' house because he needed clean clothing and because she had no food left in the cottage. He was making her an English breakfast as best he could and she was pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“Am I?” she asked. 

“Why should you stay in a hotel when you can stay at my flat with me? You'll like my neighborhood. It's not posh or anything but you can get wherever you'd like to go. I can write. You can visit museums. I can meet you at a pub. Abbie, please stay with me,” he begged. 

After just one night together (and everything they did this morning) he knew he couldn't just let her walk out of his life. 

“And then what?” she asked. 

It really was a good question. He knew she planned on going to Scotland. That he could do. He'd go with her and show her where his crazy ancestors had once lived. But then... he didn't know. All he knew was he had to be by her side. 

“I'm a writer. I can write anywhere. That's the best part about it. I will come to America in a few weeks. I'll get a place. We can see how things go there,” he said, hoping she didn't turn him down. 

“I have to get my career back in order,” she said. He knew she meant more than just her career. She would have to get some of her personal life in order, too. 

“I'll give you time. Abbie, we belong together. You and I... we're bound by fate,” he said and he could hear her scoff at the notion. “If I'm wrong... and I'm not... but if I'm wrong, I'll come back home.”

He put a dish in the sink and was turning back to the stove when she wrapped him in a hug. 

“I don't want you to be wrong. I want you to be right. But I also know that I have to do some healing first. I don't want to pull you into this craziness with me,” she said. 

“But I'm willing to go there with you,” he said. 

“I know that. I'll stay with you in London. We can tour Scotland together. Then I'll have to go home for a while. I just do. Soon... you can join me there. Or I can come back here. I don't know, Crane. I don't know,” she said and he held her even closer. 

“But I do know,” he said. 

“How? How do you know?” she asked. 

“I just know we are meant to be,” he said, not sure why or how he knew this. He just did. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Abbie stood outside the concourse at JFK waiting for the passengers to disembark from the British Airways plane just in from Heathrow. Her heart was pounding in her chest. They had spoken to or Facetimed each other every day since she came home but they hadn't seen each other in person in three months. Three very, very long months. 

Luke had found a job elsewhere, unable to deal with what had happened. She still searched for the answers to what occurred that day when August was killed and she... she still didn't remember much of it. But Crane was going to be here and he promised to help her work out what happened. He promised to be by her side as they figured out this mystery together. 

She could see him walking her way and now her heart was pounding even faster. Her knees actually grew weak. She had heard people say it before but she had never felt it until now. When he finally got past the area where only ticketed passengers could go, he dropped his leather carry on bag and ran to her, sweeping her up in his arms and holding her tight as he spun her around. She kissed him before he set her down and she only then realized how many people were watching them. She didn't care. 

It was a warm spring day and she had gotten them a room at a hotel nearby. Home wasn't that far away but she didn't think she could make it that long now that he was here. Right now, she wasn't even sure they'd make it out of the airport without causing a scene. 

“I missed you, my love,” he said after retrieving his bag and hugging her again. “I was so lonely without you that I finished my book.”

“What!? I'm so happy! Why didn't you tell me sooner?” she asked. They were slowly making their way to the baggage claim, surrounded by people but in their own world. 

“Because it's a surprise for you,” he said. She cocked an eyebrow up at him, questioning what the surprise could be. “I finished the tale I started in “Chasing the North” for you. Ephraim and Lucy... I wanted to give them the ending they deserved before I worked on other things. My publisher is thrilled but I told him he can't have it until you read it first.” 

“I will start reading it as soon as we get to the hotel,” Abbie said, trying to get a rise out of him. 

“Oh, I think you can wait until tomorrow. I have other plans for you tonight.”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The End of Chapter Three


End file.
